


Gallery of Sensation

by KittinExpoilts



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Marvel - Freeform, buckynat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittinExpoilts/pseuds/KittinExpoilts
Summary: Natasha and Bucky are tasked with a mission at a museum after months of not seeing each other. They try to catch up while working but it is too much for them?Art by Sarma.tumblr.com





	Gallery of Sensation

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of sex and innuendo.

It’s cold and quaint. Pretty quiet and solemn for a Saturday afternoon. She feels likes she’s the only one in the world. The vastness of the paintings always makes her feel so insignificant. It’s actually a welcome feeling to take time to do nothing else but consume beauty.

Nothing but this moment is welcomed.

Truly absorbing the uniqueness and rarity of objects from her past and her history isn’t easily brushed off. It hits deep down, like a stone in her stomach and she is overwhelmed. It is a complicated love affair she has with her home country.

She glides from precious relic to the next trained to not make a sound. She floats with ease and grace as to not disturb the complete calm of her surroundings.

She leans down to inspect the stunning object within the glass. It warrants and demands further inspection.

“You know out of 50 of Tsar Nicholas’ eggs left in the world there are 2 in this museum.”

Her pupils dilate as the raspy voice echoes in her ears and down into her chest.

“James…” she coos.

They haven’t seen each other or spoken in months. But it never felt like time passed. They always just picked up where they left off. Nothing ever diminished in that span either. Even living separate lives and missions. Their feelings never faltered.

As elite as they were on their own, they were so much better together. Complimenting each other in every way. So in sync they seemed to share the same breath. An ideal partnership in the world of espionage.

The mission, as they understood it, wasn’t unlike the other low-level ones. This was mostly gathering intel and doing some light surveillance. If force was needed it was authorized. Bucky always secretly hoped for that need to arise. But he was also happy to just be there as backup if Natasha needed a hand. She was usually quite capable on her own. But he would never turn down the opportunity to kick back and watch her do her thing. He loved watching her work, completely transfixed by her thorough execution of every task.

He gently thumbs the handle of his favorite knife that’s tuckered in his jacket pocket. “Maybe you’ll see action tonight pal,” he thinks to himself.

Natasha turns to see the self-assured and strapping frame of her friend, maybe lover, maybe whatever, before her. She exhales with the softest look she’s given anyone in months. “It’s lovely to see you.”

Her tight black dress suits her athletic frame perfectly, just as Bucky had remembered. Every curve locked away in the bawdiest yet most affectionate parts of his mind. Her hair was a little shorter and more copper but it was his Natalia in those tender eyes.

Barnes was no slouch himself. It had been a while but clothes clung to the man like they begged to be near him. Natasha always loved him in all black. Crisp shirt, fitted pants, just perfect. His chestnut locks tied up with a few strands free. Her favorite look, he had to be teasing her showing up like this.

Warm smiles in illusive forms are exchanged. “Been awhile Matryoshka.” The Widow wasn’t overly fond of pet names but with him it did something. As soon as it left his lips a heated haze spread throughout her tense body and ease set in.

“What has Fury told you, zvezda moya?” Natasha turns back to the shimmery object encased in its glass prison. She drinks is it’s brilliance as does Bucky, smelling her clary and lavender perfume.

A new voice breaks their reunion. “Ms. Nikova, I wanted to thank you personally for your expertise on this collection. It has been imperative to the exhibit.”

“Oh course, I’m always happy to see a little of home stateside.” She doesn’t just lean into her native accent as completely fall into it. Playing it up in every way for the head curator of the museum. She tugs at Bucky’s arm and wraps her hand around his bicep. She almost loses her train of thought as she feels the metal through that impeccable jacket. Almost.

“This is my fiancé Illya,” she playfully rests her head against him for a moment to communicate the bit. He nods and extends his right hand for a firm handshake. The curator smiles and nods back. “If there is anything you require during your visit just ask any of the guards around the wings.”

Bucky waits for the curator’s exit, “Fiancé?”

A coy smirk spreads as she looks up at the brunette brut. “What? Do you not want to play with me?”

He almost scoffs but it’s tonally light. Bucky pushes into her and leans down to lightly whisper, “You know you’re my favorite playmate.”

“Good.” She pulls him forward as they begin to walk through the museum. Hand in hand. Fingers interlock. Metal and flesh. Even with his glove he can still feel Natasha’s warm hand. This is nice, to be close to her again in even the smallest way felt like a reward.

Bucky looks around the vast and deep collection of artifacts and art. The couple moves into the next room. It’s plastered with gold framed priceless pieces. 

A door slams in the distance and Bucky’s eyes widen. His hand goes immediately to his knife. Natasha squeezes the hand she’s holding, “Hey…you.” Bucky glares in the direction of the racket.

“James…,” she gives him a bit of a tug. He seems to snap out of it as he connects with her emerald eyes. It completely stops him for a second. How gentle they look. Is it him or is it because it’s been so long?

“It’s ok. We are just supposed to be observing and listening.” Her voice eases his nerves. It always did.

Natasha spots a beautiful oil painting. The vibrant colors brush out an exotic village. “Look at this!” She drags him over for a closer look. Bucky’s shoulders drop as he begins to relax. “Meditations in Odessa,” he reads the title.

“Do you remember that summer there?” She beams, clearly this is one of the good memories they share. Bucky raises an eyebrow, “Oh I remember. It was one of the hottest days of my life. But mostly I remember those perfect black straps around you. You looked so in your element.”

“It really fit wonderfully, didn’t it? That was one of your best gifts James.” He nods and chuckles, “What can I say, I know how to pick out a good thigh holster.”

“And how long did it take you to get into their system Natalia, seconds?” He beams proudly.

“You know, if they didn’t want their entire network penetrated they should’ve used better protection.” She moves onto the next large-scale watercolor. “Hmm. Montevideo. Now that was a crazy night.”

Bucky grimaces, “I honestly thought I could get through that window. Not even a crack in it.”

Natasha laughs and places a hand on his forehead. “You poor thing, you had that bruise for weeks.”

“You could’ve handled that mob on your own. But I’ll never say no to the privilege of watching you take out an entire drug ring.” He throws his head back a little and gives her a wink.

“It was harder than it looked and you know that. But I like doing hard ones with you,” she purses her lips at him. It stops him cold. He remembers those lips, those soft pillowy lips painted in crimson. Crimson often left all over him.

He reaches out, gently brushes her side and everything hushes. Natasha’s cherry nails graze his hand, time freezes. Goosebumps appear and he exhales slowly. Collectively they had thought about the other a thousand times. Neither wanted to rush, but neither wanted to wait. Natasha grabs his wrist to pull him flush to her. The sheer weight of him rushes forward and the pair ends up against the wall. They’ve completely forgotten they are on the clock.

Bucky’s fingertips ghost her waist. The mornings, afternoons, and nights he’s had those fingers there. Silver and supple skin in every position. There’s a photograph somewhere of him peering up at her, hands on those hips. She actually giggled as she snapped it. Natasha wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Like a queen on a thrown she’d take it from him and like a faithful subject, he fulfilled her every request for as long as she desired.

Her hands go right in his hair, one of her favorite places. Those smooth tresses she’d run her fingers through when he’d fall asleep in her lap after a long day of reconnaissance. Her thumb drifts down to trace his stubbled jawline. The chiseled chin she had spent so many nights pecking, biting, and licking.

It’s all muted except for one thing. There they are, sharing that same breath again.

“Nat, I know I haven’t always been great about…”

“Don’t. Me too. Never worry about that.”

He leans forward and meets those beautiful lips. Just as he remembers and often reminds himself on solo missions. And he remembers them all. Smudged smooches in Auckland, tongues twisted in Cairo, mouths mingled in Seville. Wherever they were it felt like they were the only ones.

Natasha’s hands net back into Bucky’s soft mane. She soaks in the scent of the brooding brunette. She can never pinpoint it and it always fascinated her, he doesn’t smell like anything but James. It’s like the universe just decided he was so magnificent that he deserved his own essence. Whatever is was she knew it. It was fire and ice, it was strength and vulnerability. It was this duality she fell in love with. Natasha was transfixed by his ability to be both delicate and rugged especially with her. Everywhere in every way. There weren’t many men who could keep up with and keep in check the siren from Stalingrad. It was only Bucky she felt complete with.

He grips her thigh as she moans out a barely audible, “пожалуйста.” “Natalia…” he growls back as it resonates deep into her soul sending a tingle throughout her usually stoic figure. As the intensity of their embrace escalates a cough breaks their grasp.

He turns and in pure instinct puts his arm out to shield her. A glimmer of chrome between jacket and glove peaks through. The guard who was clearing his throat doesn’t seem to notice in the distance.

Natasha gently lowers his arm and holds his hand again, “Maybe we should try another room?” Her eyes glance to the archway on their left. Bucky can feel his heart race and he exhales to slow himself. “Hey…I’m here. It’s ok.” She motions with her head as he follows her into the next section.

Darker than the last but no less splendid in the treasures it held. Armor and weapons from all different eras from all over the world, the kind of space two assassins could really appreciate.

“Holy hell…,” Bucky stands in front of an immaculate manikin draped in Shogun garb.

A devilish smile crawls across his flush face, “Osaka?”

“How could I forget? It was one of our few assignments with actual downtime. Even if it was only a few hours.”

“At least that bed was comfy.”

“But we hardly used it,” she chuckles and squeezes his side playfully.

“Ok, well at least the room was nice. I enjoyed the view.” He resists the urge to throw finger guns as a flashback of Natasha in nothing but silk sheets pops up in his mind.

For her, a very different feeling starts to brew. A sobering pang begins to fill Natasha. How wonderful Bucky had been to her over the years. She turns away from him and fights to compose herself.

“Come Romanoff, don’t ruin the little time you have by being a sap.” She tries to rally and keep the tears restrained. “Only you,” she whispers to herself.

“Lyubov moya,” he notices Natasha has left his side. She’s not even in the same room.

Bucky peaks his head into the next exhibition. A room bathed in midnight with sprigs of light over American classics. Hopper, Lee, Cadmus. It feels familiar and yet distant.

“Nat….” He sees her standing in front of a painting. It’s a vibrant work of oil and emotion. A soldier with his left arm drenched in blood, coming apart from himself. Bucky already understands as he furls his brow at Lea’s magnificent work, “The price indeed.”

She can feel her words building up and burning in her throat. Clawing their way up and resting on her tongue like the worst taste she’s ever experienced.

Natasha can sense him behind her. As tears begin to fall she allows the yarn of old wounds to unravel from their burgundy harbor. Her lips part and she speaks softly and slowly as to not miss a single syllable.

“A few months ago I was in Bucharest,” she trails as his hand brushes the back of her arm. Not a flinch. It’s warm and inventing. It’s James. He longingly gazes at her perfectly coiffed ginger bob and gives her the time she needs to assemble this troublesome tale.

“I was tasked with digging through the remnants of an old Hydra facility. Oh course it had been gutted. And I was pissy with Nick for weeks after. Not just because it felt like a waste of time but…” Here it comes, those sour words again. Burning like fire in her. Bucky’s arm is firmly around her now. He can feel the rhythm of tears against his sleeve. She was so powerful in everything she did, even crying. He rests his chin on her shoulder. Breathe hot then cold on her neck. It’s her storm and Bucky is the protective port.

“There were blueprints. I saw how they kept you.” The diagrams haunted her for countless nights. Playing over and over the horrible things that had been done to him. “I just,” she chokes back more tears. “It just made me really miss you.” Natasha prided herself on being able to maintain control in any situation be it painful or pleasant. But only one thing ever got through her tenacious Russian demeanor.

Bucky lightly kisses the crook of soft scented skin he is nuzzled in.

“I couldn’t not think about you. I couldn’t not think about us. I just had to….”

“Shhh, lyubov moya. You don’t have to explain anything.” He is barely above a whisper with his mouth nestled up to her ear, these words are for her and her alone. “Last year I swore I saw you in Marseilles. You couldn’t hide all that fiery hair under a rather bewitching black hat. And pure poise, while you sipped what I’m guessing, was bitter black coffee. I mean, I tricked myself into thinking it was you. I could actually smell lavender…” He voice descends into silence.

Natasha knew he had been there. She could always feel when their paths crossed. It was like an ardent sixth sense. She turns to face of a now sullen soldier, Bucky’s blues eyes touched with tears too. Eyes like the clearest azure summer day. But even those days have clouds and darkness, and he was no acceptation. Many disturbances have passed through Bucky and just as he does for Natasha she seemed to be there right when he needed shelter the most.

In France, she saw him across the street from the café where she was staked out. Gloves, baseball hat, maroon henley. It was Bucky. It took everything in her not to bolt from her nest and pin against the bookstore doorway he was in front of. It had been weeks since they had even spoken. He looked good, even from the considerable distance and through black shades she could tell he was in his favorite jeans. Snug in the thighs, snug around her…. Natasha’s mind wonders to everything she remembered about those jeans and all the treasures she enjoyed with him them. She was extremely frustrated the rest of the mission, knowing he was so close yet so very far.

But now here he stands before her. Her heart begins to race. There’s no hiding this now. She wants nothing more than to be fully embraced and consumed in the arms of her James. “Я хочу тебя,” Natasha purrs.

Green light.

He envelopes her, holding her closer than he ever has before. He never knows if it will be their last. Natasha throws caution and composure out the window and kisses Bucky. Whatever else is in her that she can’t verbally express she lets her body rapturously communicate. Fully weeping now she lets every sentiment, every concern, every sensation she has ever felt for him flood out.

Bucky lifts her up and the two continue to passionately translate all that’s passed between them. Her legs instinctively wrap around him. “Moi horoshiy,” Natasha manages to squeak out in-between tender touches.

If there was hesitation neither showed any sign. “Ты мне нужен.” Those words drip from his lips right into Natasha. She can literally feel every part of her warm to the tune of her first language. The two slink into a shadowy corner. Bucky begins to make strategic shifts as Natasha clings to him. Not even letting a slither of light separate them.

Everything seems thick and tight and heavy. Breathing, clothing, words.

***BUZZ***

They freeze.

***BUZZ***

“Damn it!” Bucky yells. Natasha’s flush expression reflected this too. And at this point, she was a little dizzy and now completely dismayed.

“The mission.” She can barely say it as he gently gets her back to the ground in her patent stilettos.

They each reach for their phones.

Bucky’s babysitting the knife in his jacket pocket. Natasha’s strapped to her thigh in its adored holster.

In unison they look.

A text appears.

 ***** Agents, by now you must have figured out the status of this mission. Well, you’re welcome. There is no mission. I just thought the two of you could use some time off and might like to see each other. *****

Bucky shaking his head, “Do you believe this?”

“So Nick just wanted us to have a date night? This is somehow both very sweet and incredibly shitty to do.”

Bucky still a little steamed,

“First off he couldn’t send us somewhere better?!” Nat laughs,

“Did the charm of the Queen City not rub off on you in a few hours?”

 ***** Agents I hope you are enjoying the subdued surroundings of the Midwest. You’re free for the next 15 hours. *****

Bucky eases up, “Well…he tried.”

Natasha nudges him with her elbow, “When in Rome……”

Bucky throws his arm around her, “Are we really going to spend our day off stuffing our faces with chili and noodles?”

“You’re no fun sometimes Barnes. Let’s get some dogs and a few beers in you.”

Bucky grins and kisses her, “Now you’re speaking _my_ language doll.”


End file.
